No matter how hard you may struggle to prevent,
There seem to be twists and turns you can never detour
That counteract all the tricks you can ever invent,
As if some power before-hand had determined that tour.
Born like a clairvoyant to his own fate half-blind
Who finds his wayward way into a tight-rope bind,
He ends up as his own fate’s powerless prey
Raving as in a strait jacket or like a beast at bay,
Or having gambled with his life, himself but a gambit,
He manages to find consolation in the smallest tidbit,
Only to see coming undone his own house of cards,
Subject to a rigid rule that every hand discards,
Now that the Queen of Spades has shown up to take
Everything of his life he put at such risky stake,
And an end shall be put to that life-long stale-mate,
By a Knight on a Pale Horse to announce “check-mate!”
Bugling a signal for the finally broke
Left only with a heart that totally broke,
That it’s about time he should go,
As empty-handed he first came here so.
May Thou receive him, a fumbling gambler
Who also was on Earth a restless rambler,
With Thy grand hand so peaceful and bountiful forever,
And close his forgiven hand with 30 pieces of silver
Worth a few crumbs from the Master’s table
That would be more than enough to heal and fill
His hungering soul, though it has never been able
To stand humble, as on Thy Sacrificial Hill!